


A Somber Tone

by DarethShiralAsaara (PSIDontKnow)



Series: Change is the Game [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Heralds being Heralds, Time for Twinquisitors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-19 00:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17591039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PSIDontKnow/pseuds/DarethShiralAsaara
Summary: It's always the lighthearted ones that are the most dangerous, especially when they get serious- or -Five times Varric saw the twins act like the Heralds of Andraste





	A Somber Tone

1

     Varric can tell from first sight that these two are going to be a handful. They both come into the battle blazing, literally in the case of the boy. They pass a singular staff back and forth between them, the boy using it to focus attacks on demons, using more wide spread magic attacks when his sister smoothly plucks it from his hands to use it as an inventive weapon, resorting to a small knife that’s probably Cassandra’s when he calls for it back. He has to respect both of them, dual glares actually making Solas take a miniscule step back after he’s grabbed their wrists to seal the rift.

     Explanations abound, the taller of the two paying attention, the smaller rolling her eyes at something, most likely the elf’s tone. Varric tries to introduce himself candidly, sure that both of them would appreciate some jokes in the midst of the doom and gloom that is the world around them and their current traveling companions. Sure enough, they both give him matching lopsided grins, the girl winking when she laughs about Bianca, her brother saying something he can’t catch, but that makes her snort, covering her face with her hands. Neither of them pay Solas much mind beyond what’s polite until Varric said that he’d saved their asses. They both give him their thanks, heartfelt and wide eyed, until Cassandra shoos them further forwards. Varric gives one more comment, earning a smile for it before he follows behind the Seeker.

     The siblings fall back a bit, walking with the elf behind him. He’s probably not meant to hear it, the twins voices low as they flank Solas and gently ask him if he wants their shoes.

     “What?”

     “You’re barefoot, in the  _ snow. _ ” The boy drawls, and Varric huffs out his nose, a soft laugh for the droll tone of his voice before the girl pipes up.

     “It’s the least we can do, save your feet from fallin’ off, since you apparently kept our hands from doing the same.” Varric can litterally hear Solas flounder for words, obviously not expecting either of them to offer something like that out of the blue.

     “I - There are heating runes set upon my pants cuffs, and I’ve become used to walking like this. Thank you though, for your concern. It’s appreciated.” There’s a thump, most likely someone’s hand against the elf’s back, before the low murmur of conversation starts up between the two mages, the girl jogging lightly to catch up with him, smiling at him before gesturing at Cassandra climbing ahead of them.

     “Nice view, hunh?”

 

* * *

  
  


2

     “Hey kid, you doin’ alright?” Varric smiles as he sits next to the Herald - one of them at least - on the edge of the frozen dock, leaning forwards to try and see what he’s thinking about.

     “This is all - it’s strange.” Parian huffs the words out, gripping the fabric of his knees with white knuckles, wide mouth set in a stern little frown, ears mirroring the curve. 

     “Everything tends to be weird as hell here kid.” Varric lays a heavy hand on the boy’s back, nearly startled when he can feel the fine line of spine as he huffs.

     “This - Inquisition. It’s a good ideal, but not a good idea. Sooner or later, someone is going to step on toes, likely myself or my sister, and we’ll end up  _ dead _ . Either that or the same people who have been complaining about Andraste’s Heralds being Andraste’s  _ Mutts  _ will kill us.” He lets out a short, humourless laugh, before the words continue to spill from his mouth. “We don’t even believe in the Maker, not as the Chantry teaches, and we’re suddenly some holy second coming? All we wanted to do was travel, see the world, the idea of seeing something that would change our home for the better, being there to see it, that’s all that drove us here. Neither Cari nor I meant to get caught in some holy war with forsaken demons, so many eyes on us.” He’s panting by time he’s done, leaning forwards over his knees and shaking hands as Varric continues to rub long lines of comfort down his back.

     “I’m  - I’m sorry, I’m not normally like this.” The boy apologizes, sniffling and trying to descretely wipe his eyes.

     “Hey, no worries kid! Who can you trust if not your inner circle? ‘Sides, I’m used to listening, you don’t think that Hawke never had any complaints?” The dwarf laughs, still rubbing the boy’s back like his mother had once done for him when he was upset. The mention of Hawke works like he thought it would, green eyes turning back to look at him, those big elf sized Qunari ears perking up at bit.

     “I was … fairly sheltered as a child. What was Hawke and that whole ordeal like?”

     “Well you see, it all started….”

 

* * *

 

3

     This is not how the story was supposed to play out.

     The night had begun with revelry, with laughter and music, the twins dancing and laughing with each member of their army they can. It had gone from heaven to hell in an instant, alarms being raised, the corrupted templars and mages both marching on them, fire and burning. Then the huge damned dragon had descended and it went from bad to worse. They’d worked hard to bring as many as they could to safety when the trebuchets fell, all of them covered in soot and blood, still panting in the Chantry as they either help others or lean against the door.

     Varric is watching from the corner of his eye as the twins stand with Roderick, Cole and Dorian both hovering close as well. Cole knows what the fuck wants outside the gate, a long string of words that boiled down to ‘He wants the Herald.’ There’d been an outcry at that, even if the Heralds themselves stayed silent on the matter. Cullen finally spouts out his bright idea to bury them all, and before Varric can muster the breath to tell him that’s stupid as fuck and wouldn’t even fly back in Kirkwall during the Blight, the priest speaks up again. A secret path out, a final chance.

     “Cullen, will it work?” Pari’s voice is flat, somber, as if he’s steeling himself for the oncoming fight.

     “Only if he shows us the way out.”

     “Parian, take the Inquisition and go.” All eyes look towards Cari as she says this, wide eyed until their voices rise to argue.

     “Stop it! We don’t have time to argue. We need to get everyone we can out.” Cullen watches her for a moment, searching for something before she nods and he begins to shout orders to follow Roderick out.

     “I’m not leaving you behind.” Parian’s voice is shaking as he says this, for once the boy closer to tears than his sister, and she gives him a smile, pressing something small into his hand.

     “The people will need all the help they can get out, every available mage. This thing only thinks there’s one of us so - ”

     “Don’t - ”

     “- If I don’t make it out, there’s still someone to stop him.” They stare at each other for a moment before there’s a flurry of robes, the siblings clutching tight to each other before separating.

     “Stay safe, ‘Kari.”

     “You too, ‘Len.” They nod in unison, all of this part of a well known routine, before Parian is running to help others, shouting orders and trying to control some of the chaos.

     “You need to head out too, I’ll be loud enough on my own.” Varric had almost forgot he’d still been leaning against the Chantry doors, watching this all unfold with the world’s worst deja vu, until Cari is in front of him, sword in hand and smiling despite the way her bottom lip trembles.

     “Yeah, you’ll be plenty loud.” Varric gives her the best smile he can, pushing off from the door and reaching a hand up to clap her on the shoulder.

     “Tell me the story when you get back, yeah?”

 

* * *

 

4

     Adamant had shaken all of them badly, those who were there, those who weren’t, everyone had been knocked off course by what had happened there with the Grey Wardens and the demons. Varric had expected his kid - any of his kids really, and he can imagine Hawke telling him to stop adopting every kid with big eyes and a big heart in Thedas - he hadn’t expected Cole to get so worked up. Nearly to tears, yelling to be bound. There wasn’t anyone in Skyhold who hadn’t heard him yelling at Solas in the courtyard, but Varric still acts like he doesn’t know what’s going on, weeks later when the boy recieves that amulet the elf had been talking up.

     Carian is in there too, brushing shoulders with Cole as Parian stands in the corner, leaning against a dry part of Solas’ mural. The magic doesn’t work, to no surprise on his part, Cole is a kid, not a demon. He wants to make him stop panicking, make him stop asking to be fucking wrecked for security, and he can see that in both of the Inquisitors, the way that Cari follows him out, a hand holding to the fabric of Cole’s sleeve while Pari talks to Solas about what could possibly be preventing the amulet from working. He’s strangely proud of the kids, all supporting each other, Cole raising his voice to ask for company, to soothe himself for himself and not for others.

     He hadn’t expected this though, the flurry of rage, anger, and hurt. Emotions that he’d never seen on the boy’s face.

     “You killed me!” Cole’s voice cracks painfully on the words, twins hissing in breaths between their teeth as they both grab onto the boy’s wrists. “You locked me in the Spire, and you forgot, and I died in the dark!” 

     “Cole, stop!” 

     “Just take it easy kid.” He’s trying to soothe Cole, voice light and easy as it normally is, even as his eyes flicker between the way Pari has let go of Cole’s wrist to wrap his arms around himself, the way Cari is just holding on tighter, shaking with some sort of emotion he can’t pin down. Cole’s next words only make it worse, Parian hunching over as Carian lets go of the spirit’s wrist, hand flying to her sword, short legs going to make long strides before Varric stops her too.

     “Whoa, hold on, where are you going?”

     “To kill him for Cole.” Her voice is low, resolute, and he suddenly thinks of Fenris in the curve of her snarl and the way tears glitter in the corner of her eyes.

     “Think rationally, this man could not have killed you Cole. You are a Spirit, you have not even possessed a body.” Solas is trying to be the voice of reason, voice firm and no nonsense, but it seems to make things worse.

     “A broken body, bloody, banged on the stone cell, guts gripping in the dank dark. A captured apostate...They threw him in the dungeon in the Spire at Val Royeaux. They forgot about him, he  _ starved  _ to death.” Cole’s voice is shaking, Parian suprisingly moving closer to place a hand on the boy’s shoulder as Cari grows even more tense. “I came through to help...and I couldn’t, so I became him. _ Cole. _ ” Varric is putting things together, that the original Cole had been left to die by that man, who must have been a Templar, but he doesn’t get a chance to voice these thoughts before Cole is sucking in a terrible gasp, eyes glassy the way they are when he dips too far into someone else’s mind.

     “Left, left, lost, alone in the dark, a cage that move, shakes, blood running down my face, leg throbbing painfully. Why did they do that? I want Mama and Papa, please someone save us - ”

     “ _ Cole. Stop. _ ” Parian’s voice is choked, his hand tightening on the boy’s shoulder as a stray tear drips down his face. Varric doesn’t think he’s even seen the halfling like this, not even at the fall of Haven, eyes wide and pleading, skin pale.

     “I’ll kill him.” Varric has to dig his heels into the ground and grab Carian hard enough to bruise to stop her. Her face is unfamiliar to him now too, teeth bared in a snarl, like something wild and feral.

     “If she doesn’t, I will. I need to kill him - I need him dead.” Cole’s voice is low, a promise of retribution, even as Pari’s grip holds him in place.

     “We cannot let Cole kill the man. He is a Spirit, the death of the real Cole wounded him, corrupted him from his purpose. To regain that part of himself, he must forgive.” No one has any warning before Carian is on Solas, fist knotted in his collar to yank him down to her level. She pays no mind to everyone around her telling her to stop, to Cole yelling Solas’s name in a little broken voice, just shakes him by the collar like a dog with a rabbit.

     “Are you listening to yourself?! Forgive that piece of shite? Fuck that! Let him fucking die. You don’t forgive someone  _ killing you. _ ”

     “You may not, but a Spirit could.” Solas’s voice is cool in the face of the Inquisitor’s rage, and she growls at him, a sound that seems like it should come from the Iron Bull and not her.

     “Do you know what it’s like? To be trapped in the dark like that? To - To be ripped away from everything you’ve known because of someone else’s stupidity?!”

     “I do.” The words are said with an air of finality, a world of stories between the Qunari halfling and the Apostate elf, staring each other in the eye before Carian shoves him away from herself.

     “Then you should know that you can’t just forgive that, especially not in an instant. Cole is more human than you think, he’s a person now.”

     “Let him choose on his own.” Parian’s voice is stronger now, closer to his usual game face at the war table, green eyes shifting to where Cole is standing behind all of them.

     “I want - I want to make him hurt too.”

 

* * *

 

5

     They’re all panting, covered in rain and blood and muck, but Varric is feeling good about this, at least until he sees the way the elf - Gatt - side eyes Bull.

     “I knew you’d give your men the easier job.” It’s said slyly, but the Bull rolls his shoulders with a good natured chuckle. It sets off alarm bells in his head, and he can see the way that Parian begins to slide himself between his sister and this Ben-Hassarath elf. Something’s rotten, and it isn’t the fish or what remains of the dragon down the coast. Despite that, all of them crowd around the cliff to watch the Dreadnought, Carian excitedly asking questions about it like a child, much to the amusement of Bull. It makes Varric chuckle softly too, a fond smile on his face at her enthusiasm about anything that would ‘wreck those Venatori fucks worlds.’ It’s all fine until reinforcments begin to come down the coast, heading straight for the chargers. No one even gets a chance to speak before Cari’s gasped at the sight, sliding down the side of the cliff, using her armour to block the worst of the damage as she tends to do.

     “Bull, if you sound the retreat now, they’ll have time to escape.” Parian’s voice is rushed, taking his sister’s place by the Bull as he watches the fighting unfold on the beach.

     “Your men need to hold that position, Bull.”

     “They do that, they’re dead.” This is the most serious he’s ever seen the Iron Bull either, single eye staring down at the elf with a dead look.

     “And if they don’t, the Dreadnought is dead.” The elf gives back as good as he gets, Varric can admit that from where he’s standing, taking a few steps back to swing up Bianca...just in case. “You’d be throwing away -”

     “His men. You think I didn’t notice the skeleton crew on that ship?” Parian’s voice is full of venom, stepping around Bull to stare down at Gatt himself.

     “A handful of men isn’t worth an alliance with the Qunari!” Gatt insists, eyes flickering to Pari’s staff and then to the mage himself.

     “Bull, sound the alarm.”

     “You’ll be declaring yourself Tal -” No one is expecting the wet thwack of wood meeting flesh and bone, Gatt going flying, cheek already bruising from where the head of the staff had solidly knocked into him. His litany of curses is drowned out by Bull sounding the retreat, The hulking Qunari - Tal - Vashoth now - staring at him as he does it in a bid of defiance.

     “You don’t leave your men to die!” Parian looks the part as some sort of holy Herald, long hair billowing in the wind with the ends of his robe, fierce look as his magic, both red sparks and purple mist, swirls around him. “You’d already told me the story, how Bull had saved you, had taken you in, and you fucking  _ dare  _ to try and get him to sacrifice his family?! The Qun either didn’t prepare well enough or gain enough information for this endeavor, which means their alliance is  _ worthless,  _ or this was a set up, to destroy the heart of a loyal man who’s done nothing but give to the Qun! You know what? Fuck you, fuck your bosses, take your alliance and stick it up your ass, you Fade forsaken shitheel!” Nature decides to punctuate his anger with a loud crash of thunder, and no one moves for a moment, the only sound the crashing surf and Parian’s panting.

     “I told them, you’d never betray the Qun.” Gatt’s voice is thick, muffled with both swelling and betrayal, and Bull lets out a sigh.

     “I’ll never betray  _ my men. _ ” Gatt growls at him, wobbling to his feet, standing just outside of striking rage and glaring.

     “All these years, Hissrad, and you throw away all that you are. For what? For  _ them _ ?” The elf gestures broadly down the beach, where the noises of clanking armor have given way to the Dreadnought being attack, and then back at Parian, pointing accusingly at the boy.

     “His name is Iron Bull.” 

     “I suppose it is.” The words are exchanged with venom, Gatt turning on his heel to walk away angrily. Varric keeps Bianca’s sights trained on him, just in case, even as the Dreadnought  _ explodes  _ from the sound of it. He doesn’t turn around to see the way that Pari is leaning against the Bull, sighing heavily.

     “I’m sorry Bull.”

     “It’s alright. You did good, Imekari.”

 

* * *

 

5.5

     Varric has to laugh at the way Carian has tackled Krem, both of them in simple leather training armour. The two are rolling around on the training grounds like a couple of Fennec kits, Krem cursing up a storm as Cari laughs. He’s on babysitting duty while Bull and Pari talk over what happened on the Storm Coast, both still watching with an air of amusement though. At least, until Gatt shows up. His face is still swollen, right eye lost among all of it, and it makes him look like a particularly lopsided cake, frown and all, at least in Varric’s opinion. His prescence isn’t unnoticed by Krem and Cari, both of who had heard about what had happened on the cliff, and who are now staring at the elf, still tangled on the ground.

     “Inquisitor, it is my duty to inform you that there will be no alliance between our peoples -” Varric snorts at the way his voice is garbled and Cari is pulling out her cheek to mock him, Krem shoving her in the shoulder with a grin. “- nor will you be recieving any more Ben-Hassarath reports from your  _ Tal-Vashoth  _ ally.” Gatt spits out the title like trash, and Pari and Bull both bristle, Cari and Krem finally pushing to their feet in case they’re needed.

     “You under order to kill me too?”

     “No, the Ben-Hassarath have already lost one good man, they’d rather not lose two.”

     “GOOD IS SUBJECTIVE!!” Cari yells from where she’s leaning against the wall now, Krem punching her in the shoulder again, though it only makes her laugh. To be fair, her comment gets a snort of laughter out of Varric himself and Bull, though Gatt seems disgusted with both her and Pari’s face of pure innocence. He smartly keeps his mouth shut though, simply bowing slightly before leaving. They both watch him go before Bull sighs heavily.

     “So much for that.” His face falls for half a second before he’s roughly tackled by Cari, yelling ‘sneak attack!’ at the top of her lungs. She only manages to rock him with the force, though it gets a laugh out of him. Krem follows her at a more sedate pace, grinning as he salutes jauntily.

     “Hey Chief, what happened to drinks being on you when we got back?” He can barely speak through the laughter as Cari begins to try and scale Bull, as if she’s 2 and not 20, and Iron Bull laughs back, letting her do as she pleases while he slaps a great hand on both Parian and Krem’s backs.

     “I suppose I did say that, but I also know you don’t just want to get knocked on your ass in training again.”

     “No, I just want to get at that cask of Chasind Sack Mead.”

     “ _ Krem,  _ dammit, that’s the kind of thing you don’t mention to the Inquisitor.” But it’s too late, Carian is already on his shoulders, crowing for a drink.

     “How about drinks are on all three of us? Cari and I have found some interesting bottles that it would be a shame to drink without some good company.” Parian’s face is curved in a smile, even as he bounces slightly on his toes, and Bull returns the smile, soft and trusting.

     “I think that sounds great, Boss.”

**Author's Note:**

> This has been done for a while, I was just trying to wait before posting lmao.  
> I'm going to continue working on this in between crying about Kingdom Hearts and possibly...writing about a different Inquisitor (that only two people would be able to know lmao)  
> Leave a comment if you like these two! Both my friend and I would like to know :)


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